Disorder
by Bolinlover123
Summary: And Korra just wants them all to leave her alone. Leave her alone to the voices in her head, and to be left in a world that no longer needs her. She should have known he would be knocking at her door, eventually. It was only a matter of time. "Korra..." Damn him. "Please, just go away..."
1. Disorder

_"Just remember," he tells me softly, voice so sincere it brings tears to my eyes, "'To the World you may be one person, but to one person, you may be the World.'"_

* * *

_._

_Let go._

_._

Meelo's birthday comes a week after Jinora's ceremony, and it comes very much against Korra's will. She is not interested in the celebration, or the presents, and could care less about any part of it. She pleads tiredness, but the guilt she feels after every sigh and _'Okay, then, just rest' _forces her to wheel herself out of her room, to the ever overwhelming shock and gratitude of her loved ones.

.

_The world doesn't need you, Korra. _

_._

_They don't need you. _

_._

_They just feel sorry for you._

_._

Even so, she wishes she were anywhere else. The noise makes her (now frequent) headaches worse, and she just doesn't have the energy to be cheery, no matter how much laugher and cake hang in the air. She does not want to socialize. She wants to stay in her room and be left alone. She wants to lay in her bed, so she doesn't have to try and use her betraying muscles; because one face plant to the floor, immobile and prone on the cold wood, was enough humiliation for her lifetime. (She is sure to have a fear of beds and masks all things mechanical in her next life). Autumn has come now to Republic City, and when it's cold like this- _cold from within_- it's hard to breathe, much less concentrate hard enough on the scratchy, tendon-ripping sound of mauled wrapping paper.

Wind howls outside, carrying the leaves in its wake, and despite being from the South Pole, Korra can't believe how cold it is. She keeps asking Tenzin what the temperature is, but he always says the same answer, and her body never stops shivering. He always lies to her and tells her it's warmer than it has to be. But still, she's always broken out in a cold sweat, no matter how much her teeth chatter...

And she knows why. Because the poison just didn't seep its oily, hellish trendless into her body- but into her _mind_, into her _soul._ It's a bitterness so strong, it's like it's _growing_ inside her. And, she with how much her body hurts, would expect her spirit to feel something-_anything._

It's funny how sharp emptiness feels like. Like an invisible weight just getting heavier with each breath...

_._

_How could they love a broken girl?_

_._

_Look at you._

_._

_Pathetic._

_._

_You weren't meant to be born._

.

And a balloon pops, and she jumps in her chair, and has to take deep breaths until she feels the familiar warmth of Asami's hand on her shoulder.

She tells Asami she's fine, and wheels herself over closer to the kids and the birthday boy. If the others have noticed how many blankets she has draped over shoulders, or how violently she shivers, they don't say anything to her. This is Meelo's day, after all. _Stop being so selfish,_ _Korra_, she chides herself,_ it's not all about you._ Meelo is squealing about some new toy, and Korra feels something pulling at the corners of her lips. Somewhere in between gift number four, and Jinora giggling into Kai's ear, does she start to drip away. The edges of the room are blurring around her like a black fog and ash fills her nose.

There is something-_someone-_ lurking in the corner by Pema, staring into her soul, and she can't force herself to look away. The wind picks up around her, and nips at her face. Her hair is in snarls, little Dark Spirits nipping at the strands with their yellow teeth, and her limbs are being weighed down by chains. She tries to scream, but her mouth is sewn shut, and that someone is still in the corner, their eyes like glowing lights in the shadows.

_._

_Let go, Korra._

_. _

_Let go_

_._

Everyone else carries on with what they are doing. _Can't they see? Don't they understand? _Another present that was almost forgotten it being carried out into the middle of the floor. It's huge, and angular. Korra's sure it's some kind of weapon to kill her with, because the someone in the corner starts laughing; the melody dripping like some bitter acid to the floor that swims to her feet and burns her flesh on contact.

And she screams, but no one hears her.

And _he_ comes out of his hiding place now, all with his greasy smile and philosophical stature; confident in his plan, because everyone is too preoccupied with cake and toys and _happiness_ to save her in this...this..._disorder._

_._

_The world doesn't need you, Korra._

_._

_They don't need you_

_._

_They just feel sorry for you_

_._

His hand comes up and caresses her face, and she wants to spit at him, but her lips have turned to blooded shreds under his tongue sucking on her. His teeth nips her ear, and trail down her jaw, until bruises form, and she swallows back a moan, as his hands travel down her waist to the underside of her shirt. His burning flesh meets the frostbite of her stomach and makes way to her chest. She whimpers when his fingers cup around her breasts.

His lips come to tickle her ear, his breath right in her eardrum.

"Let go, little girl."

And she's been reduced to a helpless, child, succumbed to her own daemons, and-

_"Korra!"_

Her name is being screamed in a voice she knows, but her world is dark; dark, and dank, and cold.

"_Korra, open your eyes!"_

And she does. She does what the voice tells her to, because she knows that voice. _Knows-_

And Asami's face is right in front of her, looking more devastated than the night her father turned on her. Behind her, everyone's faces- Tenzin, Lin, Pema, her parents, Bolin, the kids- all share shocked and horrified looks that make her feel like she's falling into a never-ending pit.

One pair of amber eyes, do not look at her, however. They are staring at the ground. She's sure that if they looked at her, she'd see something far too dangerous lurking in their depths. Something like hope.

"Korra, what is it, honey?" Oh, her mother. Her sweet, oblivious, good-hearted mother.

"Yeah," Jinora whispers. And Korra can't help but notice how tightly she is holding Kai's hands. "You were screaming really loud."

And she doesn't know how she does it, but she speaks. "I'm fine. Just tired is all."

No one in the room dares contradict that blatant lie.

She wheels herself to her room without another word. They let her go to bed early, and even though she knows this can't mean anything good, she can't work up the energy to care.

* * *

"Korra, you're scaring us," Pema whispers at breakfast a few days later. Korra blinks, and tries to force her fingers to firmly hold her chopsticks.

She's recently been released from bed rest and given the all clear for solid foods. She can even wheel herself now without Asami's help. Maybe they'll leave her alone as a reward.

"Sorry, I'm just sleepy. Katara says the poison's toxins induce insomnia." And it's the truth, so sue her. "And, I mean, I really haven't showered yet so I probably smell..."

"That's not what she means, Korra." Tenzin's voice is terrifyingly gentle. Like a polerbear-dog cub before they grow up. "And you know it."

Tenzin's voice annoys her for some reason. Why was everyone treating her like she was fragile? Was it too much for someone to yell at her? Why were they whispering like she was some baby that they had to hush to stay asleep?

She sits back in her wheelchair, and pinches her palm. Mako, Bolin, and Asami are all making a point of not looking at her, and she knows that they are all together in this.

"I know you are still feeling sick due to the whole...ordeal, and the poison. But you need to eat to gain your strength back." She's never hated Tenzin as much as she does in that moment.

_._

_He's lying, Korra._

_._

_You don't deserve to eat._

_._

_You're the worst Avatar ever._

_._

"I know," she explains. "But I've just been nauseous. The poison-"

"-You have to try," Tenzin cuts in. "For us?"

She swallows when she feels the shame heat her face. "I'm just not hungry." Her words come out too fast. "I can't eat right now. I need time." She stares into her lap.

Spirits, why were they bringing this up in front of her friends? Couldn't Tenzin and Pema have talked to her privately about this?

"I'll save it for later."

She glances at all of them now to see their reactions. Mako is the only one to hold her gaze, and she can hear him thinking_ I don't believe you._

Too bad. If he wants to argue- if he cared enough to say anything- he'll have to shout.

_._

_He never loved you_

_._

"I know." She mumbles.

"What was that, Korra?" Tenzin asks.

"Nothing." Her voice is monotone. Why was talking to damn _exhausting?_

Sickening silence passes.

"You've lost a lot of weight, though, since everything happened," Asami gives her two-cents. Korra can see her friend choosing her words carefully.

Bolin nods. "We just want you to get better as soon as possible." He flashes a smile that does not meet his eyes. "You know, the old Korra."

And she stops and looks up then, her neck nearly snapping. If she closes her eyes, she can see the Spirits floating around, and the landscape changing with every thought, in the Spirtual World. He is sitting cross-legged right in front of her like a Tyrant; talking down cities on his command, socking the sky in blood.

.

_New growth cannot flourish without first destruction of the old_

_._

"Shut up!" She snaps, and Bolin looks like a wounded pup. The others stare at her with open mouths.

"Korra..." Tenzin starts.

She starts turning her wheelchair around. "This is pointless. I'm going to bed." And even though it's not even ten in the morning, they let her. She locks the door, and screams into her pillow and cries for no reason she understands.

_._

_Let go_

_._

Hours pass-or, maybe days; she can't be sure- and there is a knock on her door.

Two loud, and one silent. She knows who the person is before they even speak.

Her voice is without emotion. "Go away, Mako. Please."

She hears the door open anyway, and his familiar hand is on her shoulder before she can even blink.

And Korra just wants them all to leave her alone. Leave her alone to the voices in her head, and to be left in a world that no longer needs her. She should have known he would be knocking at her door, eventually. It was only a matter of time.

"Korra..." _Damn him._

"Please, just go away..."

"We both know I'm not going to do that, Korra."

* * *

_Soooo...took a shot at writing Korra. Hopefully it sufficed. Let me know what you think and if I should continue._

.


	2. Catonic

_And now the thunder breaks and lighting strikes the land where only those who listen lay. No, they are together/ one. His bed is memorizing the shape of their bodies, the heat sticking the sheets together. Their breathes are making his mind dizzy, and her body's pressed against him like a cocoon. Her sweaty face looms above him, begging for him. He presses his lips into her's, gentle at first, afraid to break her( but this is Korra, and pity the fool who dares to call her anything but unyielding) then more firm when she grumbles low in her throat. She pushes into him, and a wonderful heat flushes his body. One of her hands is on his chest, right above his heart, and the other is tangled in his hair, scraping his scalp, holding him in place. He feels like an animal in a cage for all the wrong reasons.. She smirks, his lips two cherries parting to show her curious tongue._

_Because she rather him show and not tell her, 'iloveyou', he shows her. He does. Korra never liked empty promises, anyway. It was in the little things that she found him._

_His hands (for once he is unashamed of them) are on her slim, but firm waist and she squirms slightly as his fingers glide up and down her hips. He pulls back slightly, afraid._

_"Tickles." She moans. "More."_

_And spirits, even though she can barely see his face in the dark, she must know what she does to him. Just one 'okay' and she gives him all that she is._

_He snorts and works his way under the uncharted territory of her shirt, feeling the soft flesh of her breasts. He looks up for a moment, as if to ask, 'is this okay?' She just nods and closes her eyes, letting him explore her._

_A part of him is afraid to hurt her, but-_

_"Mako..."_

_But she's looking at him now, and how can he possibly deny her like this? How can he force her away when she needs him, and they've never been so sure?_

_"I want this." she hisses, like everything she says are words from the mouth of a goddess, and he most obey. And they are. He is. "Go there with me."_

_"Spirits, Korra..." He breathes in, and let's himself go. If she could hear how breathless she's making him, she'd smirk even more. He aware he's gone hard, and doesn't give a damn. Weeks ago, he'd have blushed and been a spluttering mess of gibberish after blowing raspberries on her stomach and hearing her giggles. Months ago, he'd have been too embarrassed to even touch a girl that way, let alone look at anywhere but her face. Now, he just doesn't want to lose this moment, lose her. His hands find smooth, flesh. He thinks how two such prominent, strong, life-giving wonders, can be so soft and sooth at the touch. As if their tenderness is a shield of some sort, and he is finally let in. He cups them both, smoothing his thumb over her nipples and she gasps in delight. She presses her mouth into his, like she's trying to steal his soul. Their tongues play for a bit, a game of cat and mouse, before she nips his ear, and he hisses. She kisses him on the neck, the jaw, his chest, making him as her own, as each other._

_Korra finds quickly that sometimes love is loudest to the one's gone quiet. That 'Iloveyou's' mean little if they have nothing to back it up. And here, in her bed, with his sweat mixing in with his own, her ear is pressed to his heart and she thinks, _yes, yes, I know, I love you, too.

_She kisses him harder and lets her right leg cross over his, his left finding a spot between her warm thighs as he realizes, somehow for the first time, just how little there was between them. In the scattered moments they'd had alone like this, they had developed a kind of protocol. It involved kissing, which led to hands slowly, but hungrily, making their way under clothes. From time to time, one of them would blaze a trail to new patches of unexplored flesh, and they would add that to the list._

_And he breathes, and his heart thumps. And Korra just listens. It's a lullaby for the broken, a melody for the otherwise unable to find the truth._

_"Promise to never leave me..."_

_"I promise."_

* * *

{What do _I_ want? The answer to that question does not exist.}  
― Laurie Halse Anderson, _Wintergirls _

* * *

Once upon a time, there were things in Korra's life that made her feel safe.

Granted, before coming to Republic City, she was never threatened because the world did not know about her yet. Being in a secluded (prison) compound with highly trained guards around every corner, gave little reason for fear. And, growing up in the South Pole, your community was your home. Korra couldn't count the nights she lay out in the snowy tundra with Katara, them both gazing at the starts and just...talking. About anything, really. And all the newest, coolest bending moves she could show her Mentor; Katara was Korra's go-to for comfort. And her parents- when she was allowed to see them, that is- her mother would make her favorite cocoa, and wash her hair with scented oils. Dad took her fishing and hunting, and always gave her the best part of the meat. It made her feel as normal as she could get, being the Avatar.

But, here, in Republic City, you look out for yourself. No one knows what community means, let alone what blood runs through their veins.

Though she never once doubted her mentor's intuition, a part of her wished Katara had been wrong when she had told her that her 'Destiny was in Republic City.' If this was her destiny- her fate to be the worst Avatar ever- well then, maybe it was time for a new Avatar.

Or maybe none at all.

_Stop that,_ she yells at herself for the thousandth time that night, _that won't get you anywhere. _But her nails are bitten down to the skin, her eyes feel so heavy as black dots pop and fade against her vision. Maybe she's dying, but very slowly. If she breathes in too deep, her chest may collide with her ribs and crush all her insides to dust and ooze her guts out from her pores until there is nothing left of her except The-Avatar-That-Never-Was.

_._

_Stressed. Needs time. Poison. Depression. Post Traumatic Stress. Anorexia. Pain._

_._

And they all mean the same thing. No matter how you look at it, it's clear to her that she's royally fucked up.

"Korra. Korra, you need to eat."

And maybe, maybe she will leave landmines in her wake when she finally collapses on herself, because she's pretty sure she isn't supposed to be shaking this much. And maybe these tremors in her arms are the start of the fuse, and when she counts to ten she will explode all over the world, in Every-Nation-at-Once-

_"Korra."_

_-and does she want to die from in the inside out, or the outside in?_

"Damn it, Korra, look at me!"

And her neck snaps in half as her gaze meets fierce amber eyes. They are too bright, like the sun. She blinks. He's too fierce, too bright, too mad. Water trickles from her eyes like a broken faucet. She hears him sigh, and his face noticeably softens as he puts his hands up to her face to patch the leak. "Korra, like it or not, I'm not going anywhere. We don't have to talk, okay?" His voice is soft now, but something else lurks beneath it that he dare not let show. Fear? Worry?

As if he's really worried about her. No one was worried for her sake; they just wanted the Avatar to grow some balls and save them again.

"-But...I'd like to, if that's alright." he continues, with a squeeze of her hand. It's soft, like snow, but warm like flowers heated by the sun. She is torn; torn between showing how much she needs him, and giving in when she knows he really only feels sorry for her. And how could he not? She's-

.

_Pathetic._

_._

_A coward_

_._

_The World's Worst Avatar. You should just let the Earth Kingdom have it's turn._

_._

"No!" she chokes out, and her hands start their neurotic shake again. She is here. Not in the cave. She is/here/ in her room with Mako, and _one, two, three, f-_

"Korra, what's wrong?"

She has to count. Has to count the individual hairs in her pelt to make sure she's real. Because the doubt is always lingering; the doubt that this is all the poison's work, that this is all a messed up lie and she's still stuck there in that hellwhole-

His warm hands are shaking her shoulders, numbing the dark edges of her mind, making her vision clear again.

"You with me, Kor?"

"Eight."

Mako's eyes search hers for something only she can see. She nods, slightly, her head bobbing like a child's; too big for her broken body. "Y-yeah."

And they yell at her, and pity her. Fake Smiles for the girl who Did It All, because she can't see what they see. Nobody can explain to her why her eyes have started to work different than theirs. Nobody can make it stop.

And, Spirit, does she want it to-

"Make what stop?"

She jumps in her chair.

"Huh?" His hand gripes hers, a desperate attempt to keep her in the _here _and _now. A_nd if he's just a replica of the poison, some hellish hallucination, then she'd gladly die by kissing his poisen-laden lips until there was nothing inside her throat but his ashy-blackness to kill her slowly and drown her insides up. She'd relive this moment a thousand times over, having the last thing she sees are his amber eyes slowly turning to ink as her torturers laugh from below.

Yes, to both be made whole, and die from him, would be cruelly ironic, beautifully tragic, and a blessing she can only pray for.

Her face is being cupped in his hands; soft, yet callused, warm. No inky black tentacles or flesh-eating lava. And wetness is starting to form in the corners of his eyes. His voice is almost a whisper. "What can't you stop?"

Her breath hitches and fire bubbles up from her stomach. She contemplates denying it, because her weakness is sure to make Zaheer and them roll around with glee, and wherever they are hiding, they are sure to spit this back in her face later.

"Promise you won't tell them." She says.

"I swear." His face pinches. His Adam's apple bob's as he swallows hard. "It's just between you and me." And Korra pinches her palm in her fingers because he doesn't even know what he's promising when _them_ to her, is a different _them_ to him. Spirits, the four of them were probably already laughing at her, and telling the world how weak she was. "Lin and Tenzin and everyone, won't know, okay?"

"O-okay," And her voice is shakier than she'd like, but she has to tell him. He has to know. "I-I can't stop...it."

She looks at him, and he nods, slowly, eyes locked on hers. It takes Korra a moment for her to realize that he's waiting for her to continue.

"I can't stop...it. This. Life. Everything." She bites her lips, and her tongue comes back with copper. His eyebrows raise up and crinkle. "A-and the voices..."

Spirits, she sounded crazy. She was wrong. This was too much. They were going to send her away and dope her up and never let her see the light of day again.

"What kinds of voices?" His voice is low and something dangerous lurks beneath it.

She shakes her head. She can't. She's gone too far.

"I'm tired." She moans. And, really, she is _exhausted._ Exhausted from _living._ And they are all liars, every last one of them. _It's going to be okay, Korra. _And,_ You'll be fine, you just need some rest_. And,_ it's going to get better_. Because the fact of the matter is, that is doesn't get better. They don't know, they don't understand. There is no magic cure, no making it all go away forever.

_(There are only small steps upward; an easier day, an unexpected laugh, a mirror that doesn't matter anymore.)_

_._

_You'll see, you'll see._

But when will it be her turn? When does it get fucking BETTER FOR HER?

He strokes her chin. "What voices? Zaheer?" And she flinches away at that...that _word_ like some kind of evil. And she can see him cursing himself mentally and instantly backtracking to somehow start over. She snaps her hands out of his grasp, wincing at the pain the it brings her, and bites her lip.

They both stare at each other. Silence cuts the air like a bitter knife. The clock on the wall strikes the hour.

When he next speaks, his fists are clenched, trembling at his sides, and his eyes look at her more intense than any Past Life.

_"Them?"_ He whispers. And she knows he's got the correct ones, now.

She shivers._ "Them."_

And then she's collapsed on the floor, in heaving sobs, and his arms are wrapping around her tight, protective.

_"I'm so sick of this!"_

.

And she explodes.

* * *

***ahem* Well, wow...I can't thank you guys enough for everyone who reviewed and followed and favorite! I never expected this story to be so well liked, so for all you guys, I am continuing to make this...well, let's just say a lot of chapters for right now. **

**I only ask for those who favorite and followed, that if you did not review, please, please review. They mean so much to me and I really need to know what you guys think.**

**Sooo...hope this one was good enough, and hopefully with update soon. :) Thanks everyone!**


	3. Cataclysm

Bury you in sound

Colors bursting

Bed sheets ruffling, stubble graining against porcelain flesh

Fingertips brushing away sea-salt tracks on her cheeks

Legs tangling, skin crawling, prickling with sweat

Heart _bump bump bump_ against collarbone, pulse rushing

Eyes reflect dancing flames

The Moon glows outside the window; All Seeing, All Knowing

The World outside goes on

but in this room, lips crush together; tickling, tingling, tempting

promise, promise, _promise_

Tongues roll over slick teeth

Bury you in me

Crumble, crumble..

break

Beat

Beat

beat

_Alive_

Moans, blissful in their desperate youth, flushed cheeks

Giggles creating a lullaby,

a new song,

'_You've got a heart as loud as_

_Lions so why let_

_your voice be tamed?'_

Silhouettes rub against the flicker of candles,

Heat rising, giving birth to

everything your too afraid to say

because this can be felt; this is true

and words can break

_'You've got the light to _

_fight the shadows so _

_stop hiding it away'_

Showmeshowmeshowme who you are...

One Exhales

_'So come on oh_

_come on come on'_

the other Inhales

beat

beat

Breathe

Lights dance, palms glide and draw designs on skin

Lips hold hope in their moisture, whisper truth in their touches

Fistfuls of blankets and comforting _hush hush, hush hush_

Hearts crash, as the night dies away

rising with the sun

_"Where have you been all my life?"_

* * *

**This will be left to your own interpretation. Let me know your initial thoughts as to what it happening ;) Thought I'd try a little something different for this chapter. PLEASEEEE reaview.**


	4. Of Melancholy and Moon Peaches

_"Find in love's_ _labyrinth what binds:_ _doubled threads,_ _knots of trials,_ _errors, options. Secure lines_ _back through hearts' recall"_

:Ariadne's Thread

* * *

_**Flashback: Korra is comatose due to the poison, just days after defeating the Red Lotus. Mako's perspective**._

* * *

Mako sat on the steps of Air Temple Island, finally being kicked out of Korra's healing room after endless days that rolled into weeks, in which her eyes stayed closed.

She was alive/ but not really. Caught in the middle/ her mind lost in the echo. Could she hear him in her dream-like state? Could she hear every murmmer and plead to wake up from the affects of all she went through? Every sweet peck when he pulled his lips away from her hands?

Mako sighed, wearily, and pulled his collar up higher around his neck. Of course she couldn't because, _It's over. For real this time._

The muggy weather was making his hair damp, and his head heavy, as if the gray fog were getting inside his mind, slowly turning it to mush. He knew he really should eat something- as his brother and Asami were persistent to order to him to do so, but to no avail. They just didn't understand. Mako stared at his hands- his _useless_ hands.

The rain sprinkling down like drum beats brought him back, and he took in slow, deep breaths.

His hands were shaking- his damn hands. He wanted to cut them off, he wanted-

No one understood. (_Bro,eatsomething,youcan'tkeepstaringather,_and_ itisn'thealthy,Makoyouhavetobepatient _and_ ,it'snotyourfaultMako,areyoulisteningtome?) _But he wondered, how could anyone _eat,_ how could the world keep_ turning_ when his world had suddenly...

_...stopped?_

Behind him, a door opened; a wave of cold air hit him.

"Mako, come inside. You're going to get sick."

He wondered how he managed to fall apart, so much that his little brother had to tell him simple things because he had come to forget how to do them. Like eating. Or sleeping. Or breathing, because, _Makocalmdownshe'sgonnabefinehavesomefaithinher._

_I can't imagine my life without you in it._

It was like nothing was worth it when she wasn't here with him.

The rain cried harder, thunder boomed and cracked across the sky, lightning illuminated the Island. The sky was crying for her, too. Maybe that was a good thing, because he had forgotten how to do that, too.

"Mako..." a hand was shaking his shoulder.

What he didn't know how to say, was that that was kinda the point, because he deserved it.

He was too tired to argue. To tired to think, too tired, too tired. He wouldn't be able to wake until she did.

Wordlessly, he straitened up, and allowed Bolin to lead him inside.

"Come on. Let's get you dried off, big bro. Asami made some tea for everyone."

Minutes later, his brother is ordering him to take off his wet clothes, as he throws a fluffy white towel at his head. The towel smells like clean soap, and honey, and vaguely of a home from long ago.

Green eyes not meeting his own, Bolin takes Mako's coat, and hangs it up on the line to dry, trying to get the water out.

Suddenly, he finds his mouth saying, "I'm sorry I've been...like this."

Bolin sighs, "It's not just you, you know." he says quietly.

"Not just me what?" he asks.

A few silent seconds pass, Bolin wringing the water out from the end of his coat. Mako can feel something growing inside him.

"We're all worried about Korra, Mako-"

He doesn't know where the bite of anger comes from, but it's hot and hurtful, "Oh, really! Well, I've been visiting her everyday, staying by her bed. I've been changing her wet-cloths and water, and bandages-when Asami _lets me_, that is- but now I can't because you guys kicked me out! I've been busting my ass, and what have you been doing besides fooling around as usual?!"

Mako sees something flash in his brother's eyes for a moment (eyes like his father, stern when he misbehaved, but gentle in every other way) and for a moment, Mako thinks Bolin might actually yell at him. But he doesn't because Bolin never yells, because he's always been the one to quench Mako's anger. Mako sees his brother push anger and resentment down, down like he pushes and moves his earth. Bolin takes a deep breath, hurt and pain in his face, and Mako feels horrible.

Mako hears his brother mutter something under his breath: "I'm just trying to keep everyone together..." Then the scrubbing of clothes starts up again.

"Bo- Bo, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean that. I mean, I know you've been trying to help, and I- that was just-"

Mako freezes when Bolin holds up a hand to silence him. His brother looks him straight in the eyes now. "We all love her, Mako. Just in different ways. And sometimes, showing love, is letting someone else be closer to her when they really need to be, and knowing when it's your time to comfort."

Mako opens and closes his mouth. He swallows, painful.

Bolin finishes folding his clothes, puts them on the table, and starts walking away.

"Bolin...Bo, I-"

"You should get some tea while it's still hot. We made your favorite." he whispers, and the door is shut.

Mako wipes his hand across his face, and wonders why she had to break every and all parts of him.

* * *

Mako stopped at the end of the hall, his eyes darting left, then, right, feet posed to sprint. Old habits told him to be on guard, but for what, he wasn't sure. For certainly she was safer away from him, then him being near. Against his better judgement, and dying need for some sleep, he crept along the edge of the hall, not daring to make a sound. Surely if anyone saw him, he would be reprimanded, and forced to leave. Whether she was comatose or not, being in her room at three in the morning was sure not to sound as justified as it did in his head. And by how he looked-blood shot eyes, and stubble-dusted face- he knew he probably looked just as broken as his heart.

As soon as he saw the cost was clear, he made a dash for her room. He didn't care what anyone said, nobody was keeping him away from her.

The door creaked open just a little too loudly, and he held his breath. Yue must have been looking out for him, for no Acolytes, or White Lotus Guards, nor healers, sat attending to her. Mako vaguely wondered if this odd absence of attendance was good or not; if she was becoming well enough to breath on her own, or...he wouldn't let his mind think of the opposite alternative.

How could he be doubtful still, he told himself, when she looked like this? She was beautiful, he thought, even in her frozen state. How the moonlight streaking in from the window highlighted the curve of her jaw, and the fly-aways in her hair. Her breathing was like a heartbeat from her open lips; steady and yet frail, quiet, but unyielding. He lived by the raise and fall of her chest, needing to make sure she was still in there, still fighting.

He came over with shaky legs, and plopped down on a chair, wearily. It was funny, in a painful kind of way; he had only been away from her for a few hours, but even that short separation seemed like years compared to the endless days that he had stayed by her side. Now that he was here again, it was as if he was seeing her frail state for the first time once more, and he forced the pit in his stomach down.

_They said she would be fine-just fine,_ Pema's words rang in his ears, _all we have to do is wait, dear._

_But it's been almost a week, how can they-_

_Mako, _Pema's hand on his shoulder, so hopeful_, _so motherly, _believe in the healers' words. But more importantly, believe in Korra. She wouldn't leave without a fight, let alone leave you._

Now that he had left, and seen the world that was the outside of her room, it was if everyone and everything around him was changing, but he was the same. Frozen in time at the moment she fell, not being able to move again until he saw her eyes open once more.

He let out a shaky breath he didn't even know he was holding, and dared to clench her fingers in his. He drew back almost instantly. _Cold-_ they didn't feel like Korra's. Korra's hands were warm, full of life. They were callused, the skin cracked from summer days in the dirt, and pruny from the too-long showers she always took at the same time every night. They were small, but held the world. More importantly _his_ world, and fit right in his perfectly.

"They say you're going to be fine- just fine," he whispered. The air leaving his lungs caressed her face, sounding like love as it fell from his lips, "I think your impatience is rubbing off on me," he rubbed his nose and gave a weak chuckle. "Bolin used to say I was so patient that I'd wait a billion years for something if I wanted it hard enough, and I guess- no, _I know_ that's why I'm still sitting here."

A slight wind picked up and ruffled the curtains, causing a shiver to run through his still slightly-damp clothes. He pulled the covers over her tighter, smoothing out her hair.

"Pema said-" he swallowed and whipped his face, "She told me to believe in you- and trust me, that's all I've ever done since I fell in love with you. I believed that you were the one for me, I believed that you'd save the world from Vattuu, I believed- I still believe..."

"I don't know what to believe anymore, okay, Kor?" he says to her, as if somehow, she will playfully hit his arm, smile and say, _hey, cool guy, lighten up. You got us, don't you?_ but she still doesn't move. For a second he stops breathing because he thinks he didn't see her chest raise_ up,down, up, down, up,_ but he realizes that it's his own throat that's tight. "Without you, there's nothing...And I don't even deserve you...," He focuses on heating up her fingers, rubbing them in his palms,"I'm so used to protecting people. I mean, that's-that's who I am. Who _we are._"

"You're the most loyal, brave, and selfless person I've even known. I can't imagine my life without you in it," and he whispers these broken bits of love to her until daybreak, because that's all he can do for right now. He whispers and waits and believes for the both of them, but maybe, just maybe, she can whisper back.

* * *

..

.

..

The next day, he's back. The same time, same place. If anyone has realized he isn't in his own room, or that talking is coming from the dormant Avatar's room, they keep it to themselves.

They creep up on him sometimes when he's watching her motionless form- the _memories_. How the soft touch of her lips had the tiny tang of salt, just as the air blowing the curtains back through the window, and filling the room, stings his face. How her laugh was full of subtle shyness, and, if he stared at her long enough, the most adorable blush would creep up her cheeks.

She never smelt like roses, or any kind of flowery, girly scent. He's acquired a certain scent that goes along with each person- a habit that he picked up on the street. If you can't see the person, or hear the person, you'd know where they are, and who they are, if you memorize their smell. Like a predator sensing their prey, his nose had saved them more times than he'd like to admit.

Grizzly gangsters, with ash-coated hands and greasy hair. Some days the perfume of fish hung off he and Bolin's clothes, if they had managed to snag enough from the docks. _They, _however, mostly bled the bitter, nose-pitching aroma of Cactus Juice and leftover girls. Mako could bet how long a dame had last occupied a bed in the HQ, or how much of anything illegal was consumed. He learned to stay clear for a certain amount of time, but not so long as to be wondering where him and Bolin had wondered off to.

And blood. They stank of blood.

Asami was like the crisp strawberries that she ate for breakfast, right after they were washed. The sugary bled, mixed in with her soap, was an intoxicating cocktail that lingered on his tongue after their lips parted.

His brother, contrarily to what one might assume, did not smell of his earthly element. He was the subtle sweat that always stuck to his skin from a fight. He was the salty soy sauce that told Mako how long ago he had come from Narook's, and sometimes, how many bowls consumed. ( AKA how bad the day was) . The little greasy tang of the fried pork stands that littered around Prince Zuko's statue where the street kids always hung out, seemed to forever morph with his skin. He did not smell of earth, because the earth was _inside_ him.

_She,_ however, was the crisp veggies that the Air Acolytes consumed, mixed with an acid blend of smoky heat from her fire. Her lips were always salty from the air, and the meat of her people told a story to his nose. And sea-prunes. Those bitter, sour things made his cheeks bunch up and his eyes water. But apparently, as noted by she herself, it was an' acquired taste'.

And moon peaches. Not even right after they were ripened, but the juice, just as her teeth sunk into the tender flesh. He could tell how far away she was when moon peaches were on the wind. She'd do anything for them, and frankly, many late night runs and his yuans were made victim in the fruit's expense.

Moon peaches.

A week after their break up, _yes, Bo,_ _for real this time, it's just...better this way, _his brother had come home to the apartment, a bag of groceries in tow. In Bolin's words, it had been in attempt to cheer the grumpy big brother up. He had gotten Mako favorite this, and favorite that, and in all honesty, the earthbender could make a good dish or two, when not distracted. So, Mako, ever curious, had rummaged through the bag to help put the items away, because leave it to his brother to put everything in the wrong place, and jam a drawer. (_'I didn't do it!') ( 'Well, who did? Pabu? I'm not the one who eats Fire Flacks. Come on, Bolin._')

At the bottom of the bag, were moon peaches.

His nose flared up like fire. The back of his tongue tingled. With no comment, and no answer whatsoever to his brother's concerned questioning, he had reached into the bag, pulling the paper apart, and retrieved the source of his agitation.

He had stomped across the room, ignoring his brother's protests of _what are you doing? Those were ten good yuans!_ had ripped open the window so hard the glass nearly shattered. With one swift move of his arm, the cartoon dropped the two floors and splattered on the asphalt in a vomit of yellow, earning an pissed off yell from below, and narrowly missing a old-looking guy. _What the hell, kid?_

When he had turned around to his brother's shocked expression, and Pabu's wines, his words had been bitter, final, laced with embers from the back of his throat.

"No moon peaches again. _Ever."_

Bolin had asked no questions after that, and he hadn't so much as caught a whiff of the fruit in their home from then on.

She doesn't smell like moon peaches now. She smells like rubbing alcohol, sweat, and dirty bandages. Dried-up tears and broken promises.

She's been dead to the world for six days. Actually, six days, eight hours, twelve minutes and five seconds.

Not that he was counting, or anything.

The doctors had said she'd be fine, but he knows better. He heard how their voices were just a bit too high, how their gentle eyes betrayed pity and lies for the poor, hopeless boy they thought him to be. She had two broken ribs, a black eye, a torn up side that needed thirteen stitches (he had counted them) multiple cuts and bruises that still whispered on her skin even after countless healing sessions.

It didn't matter that Suyin had bent the poison out of her. Once it got in her, there was no way to stop the damage.

And he legs. You don't fall on your legs like that, without having repercussions.

They said she would need a wheelchair, if she woke up.

_If._

They didn't hear it. They didn't hear her scream, or see the blood.

They didn't see the horrible glow of her eyes, of the real power inside her.

They didn't see her fear.

He had tried to tell them that, but they hadn't listened.

She's going to be_ fine, just fine_.

Mako had sat, staring at those stiches, her bandages, her closed eyes- _her-_ for countless days on end. The puzzle that was Korra, all laid out in front of him. He had so many things to say her, and he didn't even know if she could hear him.

_Things have gone downhill very fast, I am sorry to say. If she wakes up, I'm afraid their might be some repercussions. _The doctor's sad eyes had stung his soul.

_If_ she wakes up.

He should have told her how she smelt like moon peaches.

Behind him, the door opens. A hand rests softly on his shoulder. He doesn't register it, until the voice speaks up.

"You need to get some rest, Mako. No sense making yourself sick." The strawberries are gone, replaced by a sad smoothie of Chamomile Tea, and Tylenol.

Bile rises in his throat. "She's going to die. Isn't she, Asami?"

The hand squeezes, warmth sits beside him. Her usual shiny black curls are scraped back in a tangled, lank mop on the top of her head. The beauty queen's make up is gone.

She looks younger, Mako thinks, more innocent. Funny how masks can hide things.

She shakes her head, "Don't think like that. She'll pull through. We just have to give it some time."

"It's been six days, ten hours, and fourteen minutes."

Green eyes widen. " You've been keeping track-"

"Yes."

A weary sigh. Yes, Chamomile Tea. With honey. Her Tylenol must not have done the trick.

"Mako...You can't keep blaming yourself for this. You had no control over-"

"They're gone." his voice is raspy.

"...What?"

"The moon peaches. They're gone, Asami. I can't smell they anymore."

A silent moment lapses. Mako swears the heart monitor skips a beat. Her breathing tube is wind, pulling his soul out of his body, and closer to her.

"Well," Asami says finally, "When she wakes up, you can buy her more."

And with that, she gets up, and starts to head out. Before leaving she stands in the threshold, head turned toward him.

"I guess it's no use to try to make you some Sleeping Tea?"

He shakes his head. They both know he won't drink it, no matter how tired he feels.

Another sigh. Three taps echo on the wood of the door.

"Burning leafs."

He lifts his gaze to her. "Huh?"

"Burning leafs," she repeats. "That's what you used to smell like. And black coffee." Her nose is scrunched up in that way it gets when she's frustrated.

"What do I smell like now?" he asks. He isn't sure he wants to know.

She doesn't even hesitate. "Like how the air feels when a thunderstorm is brewing. And sadness."

"People can't _smell_ sad, Asami." He grimaces, and looks back down at the girl in the bed.

"Sure they can," the heiress declares, "Don't you know, smelling is the strongest tie to memory."

And with that, she lets the door close softly behind her.

He muses bitterly, that all the hope he has to go on, relies on the significance of a native fruit that he doesn't even like.

He'll have to make Bolin go grocery shopping again.

"I hope you're happy now," he tells the still girl. He pushes back her sweaty bangs, and pulls her blankets tighter. "I'm getting your stupid fruit again for you."

He swears her fingers twitch in his hands.

"You better eat every last bite." The smile twitches on his lips. "Damn it, Korra. Just wake up."


	5. Say Something (I'm Giving Up On You)

**Note: all chapter-unless noted otherwise- will take place between books 3 and 4.**

**This chapter immediately proceeds chapter two, being that chapter 3 was all flashback.**

* * *

_She shakes her head. She can't. She's gone too far._

_"I'm tired." She moans. And, really, she is exhausted. Exhausted from living. And they are all liars, every last one of them. It's going to be okay, Korra. And, You'll be fine, you just need some rest. And, it's going to get better. Because the fact of the matter is, that is doesn't get better. They don't know, they don't understand. There is no magic cure, no making it all go away forever._

_(There are only small steps upward; an easier day, an unexpected laugh, a mirror that doesn't matter anymore.)_

_._

_You'll see, you'll see._

_But when will it be her turn? When does it get fucking BETTER FOR HER?_

_He strokes her chin. "What voices? Zaheer?" And she flinches away at that...that word like some kind of evil. And she can see him cursing himself mentally and instantly backtracking to somehow start over. She snaps her hands out of his grasp, wincing at the pain the it brings her, and bites her lip._

_They both stare at each other. Silence cuts the air like a bitter knife. The clock on the wall strikes the hour._

_When he next speaks, his fists are clenched, trembling at his sides, and his eyes look at her more intense than any Past Life._

_"Them?" He whispers. And she knows he's got the correct ones, now._

_She shivers. "Them."_

_And then she's collapsed on the floor, in heaving sobs, and his arms are wrapping around her tight, protective._

_"I'm so sick of this!"_

_._

_And she explodes._

* * *

...

She comes to with the strong scent of tears and the familiar itch of the sheets scratching at her sore muscles. There is hand grasping her own, and she knows whom the strong fingers, and warm skin belongs to, before she even opens her eyes. Not that she wants to, at the moment. Or maybe not ever again.

She wants to sleep and never wake up, but she doesn't want to die. She wants the next time she opens her eyes, for them to be emerald green, and her aching, useless body to be chubby with baby fat, and be wrapped in a warm blanket, and her name to slip off the tongues of not-so-strange- strangers in brand new syllables.

Ba Sing Sa. No. _Omashu._ She always had a feeling she would be reborn in Omashu.

"Korra..."

There he is again with his concern. Damn him and his overprotectiveness. Why couldn't he just let her be?

_My name is not 'Korra',_ She wants to tell him, _my name is 'expendable'. And you are useful and needed in this one life that you've been given, so go out and live it. Just leave me be._

"Korra. I know you're awake now. Please open your eyes." A break in his voice. "For me?"

Spirits, how long had she been out since she fainted...or past out?...or whatever the hell her messed up body and mind had done.

She doesn't know how she's going to live this down, with_ Mako_ of all people here to see her at her lowest. Maybe if she keeps her eyes closed, he'll go away.

Yes. Yes, she will breath and only breathe. Breathe so her chest shall rise and fall, and no one can ever hurt her is she is dead/ alive.

"Korra, please..."

_Breathe._

"Korra?"

_In. Out._

Then, she hears his voice take a angry turn. "You know, you're being really selfish right now."

Brea-

_His form is hovering around her, her view tinted in burning gold, and Raava's fury fueling her. She is beaten, and broken, and air is swirling around her, and her lungs are working against her. She is trapped in a vortex of her own oxygen being sucked out of her-_

_"The Avatar Cycle will be over temporarily."_

_Breath...!_

_"Korra, breathe!"_

She must have hitched over or something, because now she's sitting up right, and the room is swimming around her.

And she's trying to- really she, is-

But it doesn't work, because she's been trying and trying all night to hold it together, and she's exhausted and she's broken and _selfish,_ now. And now that she's thinking it, she _can't stop_ thinking it. Can't stop thinking how _broken_ and _useless_ she's become. Always was. And alone in the dark like this with no one to see her, but Mako, she finally let's go of her hold on the dam of emotions inside, and they tear through her with an almost physical force. She's drowning in a despair that's been building and building with nowhere to go and she feels like he's choking on it. _Literally_ chocking on it, and _Zaheer...!_

All it takes is the first choked sob and she can't stop. The tears she'd been doing so well at holding back all this time are falling freely now and there's no sign of their stopping. She's not sure when she'd fallen off the bed, but she's collapsed on the ground again now, curled around herself with her arms hugging her midsection and her body shaking with strangled sobs she's failing horribly to stifle.

_"Korra..."_ His voice is a whisper, and she sees him make to wrap his arms around her, but she hisses like a snake, and flings away.

"Don't touch me!"

His face breaks like a mirror, like a broken faucet that floods. He stiffens, and tries to keep his distance, but his hands keep twitching out subconsciously, and she knows that he's forcing himself to stay put.

"Tell me what you need," He insists gently. "What can I do?"

Korra wants to tell him that it's not what_ they can do_, that it's what she can _no longer do._ A useless Avatar is no Avatar at all.

And there, crumbled on the floor across from him, she feels the dam crumble. She let's her thoughts go to the dark places she'd been steadfastly avoiding. She let's herself feel the seething anger at the monsters who'd done this to her. The people who made her into..._this._ And she lets herself wonder selfishly, (just like Mako said) _why me?_ What had she done to deserve losing so much? She'd already been through so much. And just when it was looking up...

"_It's not fair_..." She says weakly, the empty darkness around her silent. Mako says nothing. She senses him nodding, though. Nodding in his sad way.

The whole time she just keeps sobbing, rocking back and forth. If she wasn't a sorry, broken mess before, she most definitely is now. The only consolation she has is that at least nobody else besides Mako can see her looking so pathetic. She's not sure how she's ever going to live this down, but she knows Mako has to leave. He has to get out of here, now.

"You know what you can do for me?" She asks, her voice gruff, and her red, puffy eyes peek out from her hair covering her face.

Mako nods again, sadly, his head bobbing up and down like he doesn't trust his own voice. "Anything. Anything you want, Korra. Just tell me. Please." His eyes do that soft crinkling thing that happens when most people would cry; but Korra has yet to ever see him cry. She thinks the eight-year old in him took all his tears and dried them up.

She wonders how it would feel like, to never cry again. Korra can only imagine the strength. Too bad she's so weak.

_"Leave."_

The one words sends a bolt through him like a physical force, and Korra watches as he cringes. As if the word had teeth and had bitten him with fangs.

He shakes his head. "I'm not leaving you when you're like this. Korra, I-"

Her eyes take on an almost wild look then, and it scares him. This isn't the Korra he knows. "-Yes, you are. Because you're wrong, Mako. I don't need you." She forces the words out like vile, and her eyes sting all the more. "I don't need you to fix me. No one needs me and I don't need _anyone."_

"That's not true." He insists immediately. "Everyone needs you, Korra. We all love you. I-..." She watches as he swallows and looks away, before looking back at her eyes. "I love you. Just like I promised. I loved you before, and I still do. Always."

"I asked you-" Her voice hitches, "to leave."

And he sits there for a moment more, just looking at her. Trying to look for something in her eyes, that he doesn't know is there or not. Korra sees fear and hurt on his face and she almost smiles.

_That's it, just go. Just leave me alone and don't act like you care, _she thinks.

"Alright." he says finally, voice weary and low. A sigh escapes his mouth and Korra cringes. "Okay, I'll go. But I just want you to know, that I'll be back. I'll always be here for you, for however long it takes. Even if it takes three years, Korra, do you understand me?"

She just huffs and turns away.

He bites his lip, and fights back and angry response. Because he could push her. He could push her right now, but he can't bear to see her hate him.

So he surrenders.

"Goodbye, Korra," he says gently, before closing the door. "I love you."

And if Mako had stayed for a second longer, had may have heard the same words repeated back to him in a crying voice.

_"I love you, too, Mako. I'm so sorry."_


End file.
